by David Weber
"All right," the baron said after a moment. "I think we need to go about this in two separate ways. First, I want the people we have watching him to be reinforced. And I'm sure I don't need to tell you how important it is to be absolutely sure of the loyalty of anyone we assign to this, Rhyzhard."
"Of course not, My Lord."
"And, second," Wave Thunder said grimly, "I think we need to set a little trap."
"A trap, My Lord?" Sir Rhyzhard repeated, and Wave Thunder nodded again.
"As you say, if we knew who he was passing information to, we could try feeding him false information to pass them. Well, perhaps we do know, in a general sense, someone to whom he's passing it."
Seafarmer looked puzzled, and Wave Thunder snorted harshly.
"You just said it yourself, Rhyzhard. Nahrmahn's people in Hairatha seem to have become rather more elusive than those anywhere else in the kingdom."
"Ah, I see, My Lord," Seafarmer said, and his eyes began to gleam.
X
Earl Gray Harbor's Townhouse,
Tellesberg
"You can't be serious, Bynzhamyn!" the Earl of Gray Harbor protested.
"I know you don't want to hear this, Rayjhis," Wave Thunder said, "but I can't justify not taking it seriously."
"And have you told His Majesty about it?" Gray Harbor demanded.
"Not yet," Wave Thunder conceded. "His Majesty and Cayleb are even closer to the duke than you are. Until and unless I'm certain there's a fire somewhere under all this smoke, I'm not going to tell them anything which could hurt them this badly on a personal level. Surely you don't think I enjoy telling you that someone I know is this close to you and your daughter, the father of your grandchildren, could be a traitor?"
Gray Harbor looked across at him with narrow eyes. The two of them sat in facing armchairs in a private sitting room in Gray Harbor Hall, the earl's Tellesberg mansion. Each of them held a half-filled glass, and a bottle of excellent Siddarmark whiskey sat on a table at the earl's elbow. It was late afternoon, and heavy weather was rolling in from the southwest, sweeping through the passes of the Styvyn Mountains and in from the Cauldron, that shallow, current-wracked stretch of seawater between Charis and Tarot Island. The rising wind drove heavier waves against the harbor's breakwaters, and all along the waterfront crews were battening down in preparation for heavy weather. Overhead, the morning's sunlight had turned into the heavy dimness of cloudy early evening, and thunder muttered ominously. The clouds which had obscured the sun were black-bottomed and thick, and lightning flickered here and there among them.
The weather, Wave Thunder thought, was an unfortunately apt mirror of the tension inside this sitting room.
"No, of course I don't think you enjoy telling me," Gray Harbor said finally. "Which doesn't mean I think you're right, however."
"Believe me," Wave Thunder said with the utmost sincerity, "in this case, I would far, far rather discover my suspicions are misplaced. And I have no intention of damaging the King's relationship with his cousin until and unless I'm certain there's a reason to."
"But you're not quite that concerned about my relationship with Kahlvyn?" Gray Harbor said with a wintry smile.
"You know better than that, Rayjhis." This time there was a bit of bite in Wave Thunder's voice, and he met the earl's eyes very levelly. "I wouldn't have told you anything until I knew one way or the other, either, if the law didn't require me to."
Gray Harbor gazed at him again for a second or two, and then, unhappily, nodded.
The law was very clear, and had been since Haarahld's great-grandfather's day. In Charis, unlike most other lands, not even the most commonly born man could simply be seized and hauled off to prison. Not legally, at any rate, although Gray Harbor knew as well as any that the law had been bent, and even outright violated, upon occasion. Legally, however, any citizen of Charis must be charged with some specific offense before a King's Magistrate before he could be imprisoned, even on suspicion, by the secular authorities. And he must be convicted of that offense before the King's Bench before he could be kept there. The Church's courts were another matter entirely, of course, and there was a certain tension between Crown and Church as a result, but both Haarahld and Bishop Executor Zherald attempted to minimize it as much as possible.
Nobles enjoyed considerably greater protection, however, even in Charis. Which, Gray Harbor would have said (if he'd ever bothered to consider the point at all), was the way it ought to be. In the case of a noble of Kahlvyn Ahrmahk's stature, even the Crown was required to move carefully. Wave Thunder could not legally initiate the sort of investigation he obviously intended to propose without the express approval of the king . . . or of his first councillor. In fact, it was entirely possible, if Gray Harbor wanted to be a stickler about it, that Wave Thunder had already exceeded his legal authority in this case.
A part of the earl was tempted to make that point, but he put the temptation aside. The very idea that Kahlvyn could possibly be a traitor was beyond ridiculous, yet Wave Thunder was right. He did have a responsibility to examine even the most ludicrous allegations. And the fact that Kahlvyn was Gray Harbor's son-in-law only made the situation more painful for both of them.
"I know you wouldn't have told me if you hadn't had to, Bynzhamyn," Gray Harbor sighed after a moment. "And I know this is damned awkward. I think the entire idea is preposterous, and more than a little insulting, but I know where the original . . . accusation came from. Personally, I think this so-called seijin has overreached himself, and I'm looking forward to seeing him try to explain to His Majesty why he's seen fit to falsely impugn the honor of a member of His Majesty's own family. But I realize you need my authorization before you can continue. So, tell me what you suspect and how you intend to prove or disprove your suspicions. Unless, of course," he smiled thinly, "-'Seijin Merlin' has seen fit to accuse me of treason, as well."
"Of course he hasn't," Wave Thunder said gruffly, then looked down into his whiskey glass. He considered the clear, amber depths for a moment or two, then took a sip and looked back up at his host.
"Very well, Rayjhis," he said. "Here's what we have so far. First—"
* * *
Thunder rumbled, loud and harsh, crashing across the heavens, and Rayjhis Yowance, Earl of Gray Harbor, stood looking out an open window across the immaculate garden of his townhouse. Wind whipped branches and flowering shrubbery, flogging the dark, glossy leaves to show their lighter under surfaces; the air seemed to prickle on his skin; and he smelled the sharp, distinctive scent of lightning.
Not long, he thought. Not long until the storm breaks.
He lifted his whiskey glass and drank, feeling its hot, honeyed fire burn down the back of his throat as he gazed into the darkness. Lightning flared suddenly out over the whitecapped harbor, flaming through the clouds like the braided whip of Langhorne's Rakurai, etching the entire world ever so briefly in livid, blinding light, and fresh thunder exploded, louder than ever, in its wake.
Gray Harbor watched for a few more seconds, then turned away and looked around the comfortable, lamplit sitting room Wave Thunder had left a little more than two hours ago.
The earl walked back across to his armchair, poured more whiskey, and sat. His mind insisted upon replaying everything Wave Thunder had said, and he closed his eyes in pain.
It can't be true, he thought. It can't be. There has to be some other explanation, some other answer, whatever Seafarmer and Bynzhamyn may think.
But he was no longer as confident of that as he had been, and that lost assurance hurt. It hurt far worse than he'd believed it possibly could when he'd been so certain it could never happen.
He opened his eyes once more, staring out the window, waiting for the first crashing waterfall of the gathering storm.
He'd been prepared to reject any possibility of his son-in-law's guilt. Not simply because Kahlvyn was the king's cousin, next in line for the throne after Haarahld's own children and the designated regent for his minor chi
ldren, should something happen to Haarahld and Cayleb. Not simply because of Kahlvyn's importance to the kingdom. And not simply because of the undoubted additional power and influence which his daughter's marriage to the duke had brought to Gray Harbor's own position, or because Kahlvyn had always been his staunch ally on the Privy Council and in Parliament.
No. He'd been prepared to reject that possibility because Kahlvyn had always been a kind and loving husband to his daughter, Zhenyfyr, and a doting father to her two children. Because he'd stepped into the place of Gray Harbor's long-dead son Charlz.
Because the Earl of Gray Harbor loved his son-in-law.
But, he admitted grimly to himself, if it had been anyone else, he would have found Wave Thunder's suspicions . . . persuasive.
Not conclusive! he told himself, rallying gamely. But then his shoulders sagged again. No, not conclusive, but suggestive enough that they have to be investigated. Suggestive enough that they have to affect the way Haarahld feels about him, the extent to which Haarahld can trust him. Damn that so-called seijin!
He could have dismissed all of it without a qualm, but for the deaths of Seafarmer's investigators in Hairatha . . . and Kahlvyn's association in ventures with known Emerald trading interests. Like many nobles, Kahlvyn sometimes found the expense involved in maintaining the appearances expected of a man of his rank punishing, and his own taste for expensive hunting hounds, wyverns, and lizards, and for occasional high-stakes wagers, put even more demands on his purse. He was far from a poor man, yet the financial strain was undeniable, upon occasion, and although that was scarcely common knowledge, Gray Harbor had known about it for years. But somehow, whenever funds seemed to be growing a bit tight, one or another of his trading ventures always succeeded. And just a few too many of them, the earl knew now, involved partnerships with men whose ultimate loyalty was suspect, to say the very least.
But there's no evidence Kahlvyn knows he's dealing with people like that, Gray Harbor thought. His duties are mainly military, and he's not anywhere near as deeply involved as Bynzhamyn and I in the day-to-day effort to ferret out Nahrmahn's agents. He's never been briefed as thoroughly as I have. As far as I know, he's never had any reason to question the loyalty of his partners . . . or wonder if some of them have been using him without his knowledge.
The earl brooded over his whiskey glass as thunder rolled and rumbled again. The blue-white flicker of lightning flared once more, driving eye-searing fury across storm-purple heavens, and he heard the first few raindrops pelt down on the townhouse's slate roof.
Was it truly possible that Kahlvyn—his son-in-law, the king's first cousin—was a traitor? Could he have fooled everyone that completely for so long? Or was it all still a mistake? Only a matter of circumstantial evidence which ultimately meant nothing? Nothing but appearances manipulated into something suspicious by "Seijin Merlin's" accusations?
The earl drained his glass and refilled it. He knew he shouldn't. Knew he'd already drunk enough to impair his judgment. But it helped with the pain.
He ran back over Wave Thunder's proposal, and his jaw tightened. The most damning evidence—if it could be called that—against Kahlvyn were the deaths of Seafarmer's investigators in Hairatha. The investigators whose identities only he had known. So Seafarmer proposed to give him the identity of another of his investigators, along with the information that the man in question was hot on the heels of a highly placed Emerald agent. From Seafarmer's description of the suspected agent, it would be apparent to Kahlvyn (assuming he was actually guilty) that the agent was one of Kahlvyn's own business partners.
And if he is guilty, Gray Harbor thought grimly, Seafarmer's new investigator will go the same way as his predecessors. Or that's what would happen without the dozen additional men Kahlvyn won't know about.
If there was an attempt on Seafarmer's man, or if the suspect in question abruptly disappeared, it still wouldn't prove anything. But the circumstances would be utterly damning, and a full-scale investigation would become inevitable.
Gray Harbor emptied the whiskey glass yet again, and refilled it. He was halfway through the second bottle, he noticed, and grimaced.
XI
The Duke of Tirian's Mansion,
Kingdom of Charis
"Your Grace, I'm sorry to disturb you, but you have a visitor."
Kahlvyn Ahrmahk, Duke of Tirian, looked up from the correspondence on his desk and raised one eyebrow at his majordomo.
"A visitor, Marhys? At this hour?" The duke waved elegantly at the window of his study and the pelting sheets of rain running down its diamond panes. "In this weather?"
"Yes, Your Grace." Marhys Wyllyms had been in Tirian's service for the better part of sixteen years. His expression was almost serene, but Tirian saw something else in his eyes, and straightened in his chair.
"And who might this 'visitor' be?" he asked.
"It's Earl Gray Harbor, Your Grace."
"What?" Despite himself, Tirian was unable to keep the astonishment out of his voice, and Wyllyms bowed slightly.
"The Earl himself?" Tirian pressed, and Wyllyms bowed again. "Did he—?"
Tirian cut himself off. Nothing he could think of would have brought his father-in-law out on a night like this one. Certainly not without having so much as previously hinted he might come to call! Which meant it had to be some sort of dire emergency, but the earl obviously—and not surprisingly—hadn't confided the nature of that emergency to Wyllyms.
"The Earl," the majordomo said after a moment, "came by carriage, Your Grace. He is accompanied only by a single personal guardsman. I showed him and his man into the library and offered him refreshment before I came to announce his presence to you. He declined the offer."
Tirian's eyebrows went up again, this time in genuine alarm. The first councillor of Charis had no business wandering about with only a single guard at any time, and especially not on a night like this! He started to speak quickly, then made himself stop and think for a moment first.
"Very well, Marhys," he said after a moment. "I'll go to him immediately." He paused long enough to jot a few hastily scribbled words on a sheet of paper, then folded it and handed it to Wyllyms. "I can't imagine what brings the Earl out in this sort of weather, but I'm sure he didn't set out lightly. Have his coach and coachmen sent to the stables. I have no idea how long the Earl will be staying—overnight, if I can convince him not to go back out into the storm—but at the least, let's get his horses and his coachmen out of the rain for as long as they're here."
"Of course, Your Grace."
"And after you've given instructions for that, please personally deliver that note to Captain Zhahnsyn."
Frahnk Zhahnsyn was the commander of Tirian's personal guard, the only one of his senior servants who'd been with him even longer than Wyllyms.
"Of course, Your Grace," the majordomo murmured yet again, and withdrew from the study at the duke's gesture.
Tirian sat a moment longer, gazing unseeingly at the rain-lashed window. Then he drew a deep breath, stood, and walked out of the room.
* * *
"Father!" Tirian said as he stepped briskly into the library.
Tellesberg's temperatures virtually never dropped below freezing, but they could get a bit on the cool side, especially in the winter, and a night with weather like this was sufficiently chill for a fire to have been kindled. It was as much for emotional comfort as to drive off the physical chill, and the Earl of Gray Harbor stood in front of the hearth, holding out his hands to the crackling flame.
The library was much larger than Tirian's study. In fact, if Wyllyms hadn't already ushered the earl into it, Tirian would have chosen a smaller, more intimate setting. The vast room had been added to the Tirian townhouse by the present duke's maternal grandfather, who'd been all but illiterate, as a wedding gift for his daughter. The old man had spared no expense to give his beloved oldest child the most impressive library collection in Tellesberg, and he'd insisted on providing proper housing fo
r it, as well.
Many-paned skylights were set into both sides of the vast chamber's vaulted ceiling. They ran in a wide circle around the look-through fireplace's stone chimney, arranged to provide natural sunlight for the reading desks at the library's heart. Now deluging rain beat on the thick glass with endless, waterfall patience while thunder rumbled and crashed overhead, and fresh lightning glared beyond the skylights, like the very fury of Schueler, as the earl looked up at his son-in-law's entrance.
Tirian was shocked by Gray Harbor's expression. The earl's face was drawn, clenched around some heavy burden, and his eyes were laden with misery. The duke crossed to him quickly, holding out both hands, and his own concern deepened as he got close enough to smell his father-in-law's breath.
"Father," he said more gently, putting his hands on the shorter, more slightly built earl's shoulders, "what is it? What brings you out on a night like this?"